


Finishing (Touches)

by flowerdeluce



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Grand Gestures of Affection, Humor, Illustrations, Literally Fixing Someone, M/M, Podfic Available, Trust, Yuletide 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerdeluce/pseuds/flowerdeluce
Summary: After escaping Kahmunrah's hourglass, Jedediah has a problem that's worse than non-functional guns: as it turns out, sand baths exfoliate more than a hand-painted miniature cowboy can afford.Octavius takes it upon himself to make everything better.
Relationships: Jedediah/Octavius (Night at the Museum)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 457
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Finishing (Touches)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [9857t46](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9857t46/gifts).



> Thank you asuralucier for the beta and for always saving the day.
> 
> ~edit, Dec '20: Now with beautiful illustrations by [airborneranger63](https://airborneranger63.tumblr.com/post/636377059177971712/a-few-illustrations-based-on-my-one-of-my-favorite)! (Link goes to their Tumblr post with all images collected.)

The atmosphere in the museum’s basement could only be described as jubilant. It was not only the Battle of the Smithsonian that had everyone celebrating. Sacagawea had delivered those in hiding the most amazing news: the museum was to remain as it was, all exhibits returned to their former places; Larry was returning as night guard; and following a brief closure for “renovations” – rehearsals for the nightly shows – the museum would stay open twenty-four hours a day. 

Octavius’s men partied hard. They danced and sang in honor of the gods that aided their successes and did Bacchus proud. As their commander, Octavius’s attendance at these spontaneous celebrations boosted the already high levels of morale. He joined in wholeheartedly, losing himself in the excitement, but something weighed on his mind: he had not seen Jedediah among the revelers in two sunrises.

As dawn came, he concealed his worry as he climbed back into the miniatures’ crate, lying amongst the Styrofoam and his men. Roman generals did not flaunt their concerns so brazenly. The tablet’s magic seeped out of him, his body stiffening, and his last thought was an insistent one: Jedediah was safe. He had to be. 

The following night, one of Jedediah’s boys came to Octavius, hat in hand, asking after him. Word was spreading fast that he was missing. The last time they saw him, he was as happy as the rest of them about the Hall of Miniatures returning. Then, nothing. Jedediah had vanished without a trace. 

Octavius thought he might know where to find him. 

*

In the storage room, Octavius rapped his knuckles against the remote-controlled car’s window. Standing on the tips of his toes, he saw Jedediah curled on the backseat, his Stetson covering his face. 

“Jedediah?” 

“Leave me alone,” came his feeble-voiced reply, muffled through his hat and the sport car’s closed plastic windows. “I’m in no good state to be seen.” 

“Your men are concerned by your absence,” Octavius explained, peering in, trying to discern the particulars of the state Jedediah spoke of. “ _I_ am concerned.”

“This is my problem. I’ll deal with it.”

“I am coming in,” Octavius said, pulling at the laces of his helmet’s cheek-guards. 

“Don’t you dare, partner! I don’t wanna be seen.” 

A horrifying thought passed through Octavius’s mind. “Are you injured?” 

“No,” Jedediah replied, hesitant. “But I ain’t right.” 

“I will help,” Octavius said, with the same tone he would use when giving his men an order. Then, more gently: “Please?”

The door clicked open. Octavius stepped back as his friend climbed out of the backseat and got to his feet. 

“It was that dadgum hourglass,” Jedediah said with a sigh. The shirtsleeve of his right arm was ripped open across the bicep, edges frayed as though it had been blown apart with his beloved dynamite. The surrounding fabric hung loose and tattered. “The sand didn’t weaken my spirit, no siree, but it wore me down . . . physically.” He turned his head, hiding his face. 

In similarly mournful silence, Octavius inspected the damage. There in the middle of the frayed blue cloth, a patch of solid grey stared back at him. Not the flesh of Jedediah’s arm, but the raw material of their parts: bare, cold plastic. It evoked the image of Theodore lying in the snow, nothing but wax beneath his flesh and blood veneer. Jedediah’s exposed foundation was a disturbing reminder of how the tablet’s magic was only skin deep. They were all vulnerable.

Octavius reached towards the edges of the damaged fabric. It could be repaired, he was sure. As he touched it, a large piece sloughed away. It broke off, transforming before their eyes into a flake of paint. They watched in horror, transfixed, as it fluttered to their feet like a feather, landing on the ground. It crumbled. Jedediah looked away, covering his mouth with his fist. 

“They will repair you,” Octavius said, trying to sound determined despite his voice cracking. As soon as they restored the exhibits, the museum curators would surely notice the damage and . . . 

“No.” Jedediah shook his head fiercely. “They won’t bother. They’ll throw me away. Or get a better, fresher cowboy. Probably one whose” —his voice lowered to a pained whisper— “guns work.”

“Larry would never allow such a thing.” 

“Who’s gonna care about what the nightguard says about one outta five-hundred of us? We ain’t nothing compared to the larger exhibits.”

Octavius grabbed Jedediah’s good shoulder, wanting to shake some sense into him but not wanting to damage his paintwork any further. “A reduction in scale is not a reduction in significance! I will not let this stand. I will make this better.” 

“Now, don’t you go round telling nobody about this.” Jedidiah pointed a gloved finger at him. “I don’t want anyone knowing. I don’t wanna be manhandled by no one neither, or sent away for mending, sealed up in some bag away from my boys, away from. . .” He stopped pointing at the other man, his gaze breaking away again.

Fist against his chest, Octavius swore to him. “You have my word.” He began unfastening the clasp of his cloak, ready to drape it over Jedediah’s shoulders to cover his injury. “Take my cloak. Come back to us. Rejoin the celebrations.”

“I’m staying here.” He stopped Octavius from loosening the clasp, briefly touching the back of his hand before awkwardly pulling away. “If I’m gonna crumble, I’m gonna do it alone. I don’t wanna be seen this way by nobody, not even you.” 

Octavius touched the front of his helmet to the brim of Jedediah’s hat and sighed. “Do not say such things.” 

“You get back to the party, boy.” He stepped back, unable to look at him. “Go on. Get.” 

“I _will_ fix this.”

Jedediah smiled briefly, sadly, as if he was doing so simply to soothe Octavius’s worries. It only made Octavius more determined to make things better.

*

  
[Click for fullsize](https://64.media.tumblr.com/21a3e7d9a9ae90dee9a0bf77eed88ea3/52918bdbe7a13c16-c7/s1280x1920/528684d2e3f1b0ec179e714749f9b9e78e718c1a.jpg)

*

The computer monitor blinked to life as Octavius prodded the space bar with the toe of his sandal. A search engine opened automatically, cursor blinking in the input box, waiting to receive his command. Above, the reception desk’s globe glowed in the dim, empty entrance hall, bathing the space in soft blue light. With Theodore visiting Sacagawea and Rexy distracted in searching for a bone he did not realize was still in his ribcage, Octavius was alone. Just as he had hoped.

Groaning with effort, Octavius heaved a heavy pencil from a nearby container of writing implements and dragged it over to the keyboard’s vast array of keys. Using its eraser end, he pushed the keys he needed to start his quest. It took considerable effort, but he managed to spell out ‘FIGURINE PAINT’ and hit Enter. If Jedediah refused to let anyone else touch him, he would take on the task of repairing him himself. 

Several websites appeared on the first page of listings. Down the side, sponsored products in boxes showed sets of paint, singular bottles, tins, all priced between three and thirty dollars. 

He had planned for this. After a tiring ascent to the museum president’s office, Octavius and a group of his most loyal men had searched high and low for Dr. McPhee’s company credit card. They found it in the pocket of his jacket, hanging over the back of his thronelike chair. Its embossed numerals were the secret to unlocking the world of online purchases, and Octavius had them memorized. 

The mousepad felt foamy underfoot. Octavius pushed the heavy mouse across it, navigating the chiseled arrow to a website that described itself as a purveyor of specialist, high-quality acrylic paints for miniatures. Only the best for would do Jedediah. 

He stepped back across the desk until he could go no further. 

“Now, remember your training,” Octavius said to himself. “Fortune favors the brave. Courage conquers all things.”

Centering himself, he drew a deep breath and fixed his gaze on his target: the mouse. He charged, leaped, flew into the air high and fast. With all his weight, he brought his fists slamming down onto the mouse’s left button and . . .

 _Click_. 

Success! The page loaded. 

Octavius stepped back to view the screen in its entirety, sweat gathering beneath his helmet. A bright banner at the top of the page read, in bright yellow letters:

> FREE SAMPLES – TRY BEFORE YOU BUY!!!

It had to be too good to be true. He had concerns about using McPhee’s funds, even if such an action would benefit the museum as a whole. Larry was another consideration of course, but asking him to buy the materials needed would break his promise to Jedediah of telling no soul of his poor condition. A free sample—if it really was free—would assuage any guilt, any blame, and any broken promises. 

With great determination and strength, he maneuvered the mouse. To a full-sized human, it would be like moving a block of stone, a chariot without wheels, perhaps even an entire car. Another running jump and he clicked the banner.

The page of samples prompted Octavius to select a single color from several swatches. Every color of the rainbow was listed, in many shades, each with names reminiscent of what they would simulate. Sand. Peat Brown. Moss Green. A series of metallics would put a good shine on Jedediah’s pistols. There were many tan and brown tones for leather and rawhide; they would match Jedediah’s chaps, gun belt, his vest, even the braided band on his Stetson. A glossy red labelled Madder Red would give Octavius’s cloak a fresh lustre, too.

The next series of swatches was labelled Flesh, each colour mimicking a shade of skin. The thought of sliding off Jedediah’s gloves and painting his hands or adding texture and detail to the coarse stubble along his jaw had him shaking his head to avoid the (quite pleasant) distraction. No. He had to focus. What was important was finding a blue that matched Jedediah’s damaged shirt.

The rubbery wheel between the mouse buttons was stiff. Digging his heels into the pliant mousepad, Octavius pushed at it, rolling it in small increments to scroll down the page. 

While he had seen Jedediah’s shirt on countless occasions, Octavius could not be sure which of two tones was a better match: Vivid Blue or Sky Blue. It was imperative the colors were the same; he would not stand for anything less than perfect. But the clock in the corner of the screen read 04:58AM, so he had to make a decision, and quickly.

Settling on Sky Blue, he gritted his teeth and brought his elbow down hard on the mouse to select the swatch. 

The next page loaded, and Octavius’s jaw fell open in horror. 

> _Full name  
>  Country/region (with a dropdown list)  
>  Address and zip code  
>  Telephone number  
>  How did you hear about this site?  
>  □ Click here if you would like to subscribe to our newsletter.  
>  □ Click here if you agree to our Terms & Conditions_

Hands on his hips, Octavius drew a deep breath, gathering his courage as he eyed the heavy pencil. If his men were with him, controlling the ingenious apparatus they had created to comment on important YouTube videos, this would be much easier. The fields themselves were not the problem; he would address the sample to Larry, use the museum’s address for delivery. Summoning the strength to type it all in and click on all the little tick boxes was the challenging part. 

Removing his helmet and sweeping his hand through his sweat-dampened hair, he got to work. 

*

  
[Click for fullsize](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d575c7dd435c6c65eb0d29845f67a3f0/52918bdbe7a13c16-20/s1280x1920/9cc773b5a9e93b1fff65c947222176bc5f60300a.jpg)

*

On Wednesday evening, Larry had visited the basement to inform everyone that the older exhibits (or ‘traditional’ ones, as he called them) would be reinstalled over the weekend. Octavius had taken him aside—or rather, Larry had carried him aside upon his request—and explained about the impending package. Larry had always been a good man. He promised to sign for the package, not to open it and to follow the instructions Octavius had given him once it arrived. 

On Friday evening, Larry nodded to him, and in that one gesture, Octavius knew that the preparations were in place.

Octavius had visited Jedediah at least once every night since he had gone into hiding. Normally, Octavius spoke to his friend through the car’s open window to keep his spirits up, updated him on the situation with the museum, all the while trying not to make eye-contact with the growing grey void on his arm. 

Tonight, the window was closed, so Octavius knocked.

“You just don’t get the hint do ya, boy?” Jedediah said, no malice—but a certain amount of impatience—in his tone.

“I promised I would fix you, did I not?”

Jedediah said nothing. He sat with his arms folded, pouting in the maddening way of his as he stared at his lap. Then he looked up through the window, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Opening the door, Octavius extended a hand inside. “Come with me?” 

He hadn’t expected Jedediah to take his proffered hand so readily, as he was often unnerved by physical contact and clearly still wanted to sulk, but he gripped it firmly, letting him pull him from his hiding place and to his feet, careful not to put too much strain on his flaking arm. 

“What’s this all about, partner?”

“Follow me,” Octavius said, lifting his chin, “and by sunrise, you’ll be the man you used to be again.”

Jedediah raised both hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! You ain’t told anyone about this?” 

Octavius braced his fist to his chest plate. “I gave you my word.”

Turning on his heels, he marched towards the hole in the storage room wall that led to their private network of passageways. Beyond it, they could make their way around the museum easily. Pipes. Ventilation ducts. Gaps behind skirting boards. They were all useful in traveling undetected. Nobody would see Jedediah’s shame, but he hesitated. 

“Trust me, Jedediah.” Octavius stood in the hole of brick that, for him, was the height of a doorway. On this side of the threshold, there was only hiding and crumbling and shame. On the other, a chance to return to his former glory if he would just take it. He gave Jedediah a half-encouraging, half-pleading look.

“Ah heck,” Jedediah scoffed, “you had to go giving me those dadgum puppy dog eyes!”

Rushing to Octavius’s side, he followed him.

*

  
[Click for fullsize](https://64.media.tumblr.com/097c98cc8f6d50d82c6d613c80239bf5/52918bdbe7a13c16-a4/s1280x1920/07cc5bd9acb906a5d4d6abc2590feb40357700b2.jpg)

*

The museum’s conservation department was an unfamiliar, sterile world. Larry had left the lab’s lights on as promised. Octavius’s parcel, unopened, stood on the lab bench closest to the door. 

This was the ideal place to go about repainting Jedediah. Nobody would disturb them, there was equipment here that might be useful, and Jupiter forbid, if something went wrong, the conservation team would be able to assist in the morning.

Octavius strode along the lab bench toward his parcel, Jedediah trailing close behind. On their journey, they passed museum objects in various states of repair. Pottery. Fossils. A small stretched tapestry of a tiger that turned to look at them as they passed, threads shifting as it bared its teeth. Several instruments were laid out in clear containers and trays, too: brushes, bottles of solvents, microscopes and handheld magnifying glasses, boxes of rubber gloves for hands more than twice the size of their full height. This place was like a hospital for injured exhibits. 

Jedediah watched the tiger while Octavius struggled with the plastic mailing bag. Digging his fingers in and pulling the thin material apart, it gave way, revealing a single tinlet of Sky Blue that came up to his waist. It rolled easily, and as it tumbled along the lab bench, Jedediah turned and stopped it with his boot. 

“This is awesome!” Jedediah exclaimed. “How’d you get a hold of this?” He brought his shirt cuff up beside the label on the bottle. It was an almost perfect match. 

“A Roman has his ways,” Octavius said, staring into the middle-distance and hoping it looked dramatic. Had he not been a general, he had always thought he would do well on a stage.

In a flat, impatient tone, Jedediah said, “Seriously, though?”

“Googled it and got a free sample,” he admitted quickly, the wind knocked out of his sails somewhat.

Jedediah folded his arms and shook his head in what looked like quiet admiration. “But, will it work?”

“We can but hope.” 

Octavius had spoken to Theodore about how Sacagawea mended him following his unfortunate meeting with a stagecoach’s wheel (and even more unfortunate parting from his bottom half.) The wax, Theodore had said, had looked strange until it fully hardened. Once it had, it took the form of his flesh again. There was no residual scar nor any ill effects following the procedure and if anything, he was stronger than he was before.

Standing the tin upright, they squatted to read the instructions on its back. 

\- _Shake well before use._  
Well, they had managed that by rolling it along the bench.

\- _Allow six hours to dry per coat._  
They had ten whole hours before sunrise.

\- _Dilute using water or apply directly using a detailing brush._

A brush! Octavius hung his head in shame. How could he have forgotten something so important? 

Jedediah appeared to have the same thought; he peered over his shoulder at the instruments cluttering the bench surface. There were brushes, but nothing small enough for such delicate work, and nothing light enough for them to use without a struggle. Then Octavius had an idea. 

Reaching up, he plucked some of the horsehairs from the plume of his helmet’s crest. When bundled together, there were enough to make a small brush. He approached the tapestry and bowed his head to its vicious-looking occupant. Very carefully, he unraveled one of the threads hanging from its edge and broke off a length of it. The tiger flicked its striped tail as Octavius tied the gathered hairs together. 

“Your assistance is valued,” he said to the tiger, his improvised paintbrush now complete. 

When he turned around, Jedediah looked nervous. Toying with the edge of his glove, he stared at his feet. “What if it don’t work?”

“It will,” Octavius pressed. He slipped the brush into his wrist guard.

Still, Jedediah worried. “What if it makes more paint come offa me?”

“Courage, my friend.” Drawing his sword, Octavius held it aloft. “It will be a success!” 

When he thrust the sword out in front of him, Jedediah’s eyes bulged. He stepped back, mouth agape as Octavius charged towards . . . the tin of paint. Using the tip of the blade, he pried open its recessed metal lid and, once loosened, lifted it free. The acrid smell of paint released instantly, forcing them to cover their mouths. 

“Whoo!” Jedediah wheezed, fanning the air. “Stuff smells like a whole barnful’a moonshine.” 

Octavius had not, to his knowledge, ever tried moonshine, but if it smelled anywhere near as strong as this paint, he was certain he would only manage one goblet of it. Perhaps two. 

“Ready?” Octavius asked, whipping the brush from his wrist guard. 

Jedediah swallowed, his mouth dropping into a serious line. He looked to be gathering his courage. “As I’ll ever be,” he said with a nod.

A wave of anxiety hit Octavius now that he was finally set to undertake his task. He had never painted anything before. However, he knew if he applied himself, he could do anything. There could not be much to it, and he was not about to surrender to nerves. With a confidence he was unsure he felt—but refused to let Jedediah to see anything but—he dipped the ends of the horsehair into the tin. Slowly, he brought the loaded brush to Jedediah’s sleeve, careful not to drip any paint on the way. He was not sure where to apply it first, or how thickly, but it made sense to brush it over the eerie grey void. However, when he extended the bristles, Jedediah flinched away before they touched him. 

“Do not be afraid,” Octavius said, voice hushed. “Theodore informed me that he felt no discomfort when his damage was repaired.” 

Jedediah met his gaze. “It’s not that.” 

Octavius understood without a word. The despairing look in Jedediah’s gentle, blue eyes was enough. He planned to use a delicate touch, paint Jedediah’s bared components with care and precision. If he refused to let giants beside Larry touch him, even to repair him, it was indeed an honor to be trusted with such an intimate undertaking. 

All Octavius asked was, “Do you trust me?” 

Jedediah nodded. 

“Then there is no need for concern.” 

  
[Click for fullsize](https://64.media.tumblr.com/42d9cc215f9d3e84c3f510c3fdae7006/52918bdbe7a13c16-08/s1280x1920/709eef256fefc3de25b8f364aa03a710ff07c0a3.jpg)

This time, the brush made contact with the grey patch on Jedediah’s arm. It was smooth and hard, unlike the soft material of the surrounding sleeve. The paint applied to it like any other hard, lifeless surface—it streaked across it, did not seep in or disappear, or become part of the sleeve. It did not appear to affect Jedediah in any negative way, either. 

There was only enough on the brush to paint a small section, so Octavius re-dipped the bristles and applied a further few streaks below his last. All the while, Jedediah’s body was as stiff as if he were not affected by the tablet’s magic, his eyes shut tight, breathing shallow so as not to affect the application.

“Is it working?” he asked after Octavius had dipped the brush a third time. He had not dared to look yet. 

“It may take some time to see the results.” 

The paint was layering nicely, the entire section of grey now coated in a cool blue tone. It still looked unnatural, though, like a badly patched blanket. So, Octavius continued patiently, painting along the frayed edges of the shirt to join the color together. He turned to dip the brush again, and when he turned back, the hole was gone, replaced by a patch of blue shirtsleeve. His gasp alerted Jedediah to the change.

“What is it!” 

“Look,” Octavius said, smile lifting his voice.

Jedediah did. The new material was not a perfect match. It was slightly paler than the surrounding color and the material’s subtle striped pattern was missing, but it was barely noticeable. Jedediah smiled, his eyes lighting up. 

  
[Click for fullsize](https://64.media.tumblr.com/472498e45771f7373487e192d147fbdf/52918bdbe7a13c16-cb/s1280x1920/fbfa38a38cf47cf1f50809a07a99547077c6aa0c.jpg)

“How do you feel?” Octavius asked, thinking he might already know the answer. 

Announcing it excitedly to the sky—or at least the conservation room’s ceiling—Jedediah yelled, “Yee-haw! I feel like I could do _anything_!” Taking off his hat, he threw it up into the air. As it rolled off towards the tapestry, he grabbed Octavius’s arm and pulled him closer.

“Thanks, partner,” he said, his face closer to Octavius’s than it had ever been.

Octavius’s heart was racing so fast he was surprised they both couldn’t hear it pounding against his chest plate. Jedediah’s hand slid to his waist, palm flat against the armor that could protect its wearer from anything besides being head over heels for the man in front of him. 

“I – I apologize that it – is not a, a perfect match,” the valiant Roman general stuttered unvaliantly.

“It don’t matter.” Jedediah’s voice came hushed yet confident, his breath warming Octavius’s face as he spoke through a smile. “It’ll remind me of how much you care.”

When Jedediah leaned in to kiss him, Octavius wondered if the paint fumes were getting to him and this was all a delusion. He felt lightheaded. His knees had almost buckled beneath him, despite his sturdy shin guards. But when he reached out to steady himself, it was Jedediah who was there, Jedediah’s soft, golden hair he ran his fingers through, and Jedediah’s lips humming in approval as he raked his nails across his scalp. 

“Whoa there,” Jedediah whispered.

“Sorry.” He started to withdraw his hand, aware he had gotten carried away, when Jedediah stopped him. 

“Don’t wanna go getting paint on your armor, do we?” 

“It is no matter,” Octavius said, stroking Jedediah’s blond waves. “It will remind me of this moment.” 

Leaning in, and more confidently this time, he kissed him again.

*

  
[Click for fullsize](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6d7d225b3bbf85674ba4fb00c2d874b0/52918bdbe7a13c16-eb/s1280x1920/34ca7f2578875c5bf001fcaba1151cd41997fd4d.jpg)

*

They returned to the basement a little over six hours later—once the paint was completely dry—and everyone was thrilled to see Jedediah again. None of them noticed the patch on his sleeve or the way he could not keep his eyes off a certain Roman general. The paint had darkened slightly as it dried, matching the original color of his shirt almost exactly. There had been no further flaking or crumbling, and Jedediah was eager to jump back into the celebrations.

Just before dawn broke, the miniatures climbed into their crates. Some dived into the foam chips, others belly-flopped, and some dug down with their hands until they were buried at safe depths that would ensure nothing rattled them during their relocation. 

Jedediah and Octavius lay on top of the pile, facing each other. They knew they would both be plastic and paint again soon and that, the next time they awoke, they would be back in their respective dioramas. Home.

The last Roman legionary to return from the party stepped drunkenly along the edge of the crate. He pointed out a blue splotch on Octavius’s cloak before diving in. 

“Looks like we’ll have to order more of those free samples,” Jedediah said. 

He laughed as the sun broke over the horizon, the magic preserving his smile until the next sunset.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Finishing (Touches)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016558) by [LittleRedRobinHood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRedRobinHood/pseuds/LittleRedRobinHood)




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